The Long Trek East
by FenrisAD
Summary: A lonesome Veteran Ranger embarks on a adventure throughout the entire Wasteland on behalf of the New California Republic. Or is he just looking to redeem his sins, and ultimately banish the devils that plague his dreams? Will he survive the horrors of the new world, or will he perish amidst the dust of time? Find out in this weekly story.
1. Chapter 1: What about them?

October 1 of 2285.

Shady Sands, California - New California Republic territory.

Written by: Veteran Ranger Lobo, Advanced Reconnaissance Operations.

 **THE LONG TREK EAST**

 **CHAPTER 1: What about them?**

I depart today... I truly thought the General would never approve of this endeavor I proposed, but here I am; enjoying a last drink before departing into the unknown. When I first proposed the concept of sending Rangers eastward some of the others called me a madmen. They said what I was proposing was a suicide mission, a one-way ticket to a radioactive hell. Some of them even went so far as rage at me - mainly because they believed I would take a squad alongside me, and thus I would be stretching the much necessary NCR forces even further.

This only comes to prove how naive the Rangers have grown. The limitless resources and prestige had began to take their toll on our outlook of the wasteland. We no longer faced it as a place to be tamed, but as a Hell to be purged. Anyhow, it matters not what they think, for when I first envisioned this long trek, I already fully knew this was obviously a mission to be carried alone. A group is susceptible to their needs. They need more water, more food... a group attracts more attention, wastes more ammunition, and are psychological prone to become bold and take dumb decisions without accounting to the repercussions that my follow. I knew this task needed to performed by one highly trained, and experienced person, for a single soldier can easily move 16 hours a day without being detected, while consuming minimal quantities of water and food, and maintaining the psychological maturity that will allow him to pick the right fights.

And I was the obvious choice to carry this mission out. This might sound arrogant, but allow me to explain some things: I'm an experienced Ranger, but still fairly young; - thus I have both the energy and the insight, the best of both worlds - I fought in both of the battles for the Dam, - first in the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion, then with the NCR Rangers - and I've built quite a reputation in the last couple of years. I'm a experienced tracker, a master of reconnaissance and sabotage operations, and one of the best sharpshooters in the entire NCR. Some people have said I'm full of myself, and I can see where they are coming from, but I truly see no point in being humble about my particularly refined skill set. In the end, what makes me different from the other arrogant fucks all boils down to a single fact: I can deliver what I promise.

"Lobo, sir!" I'm suddenly brought back to the real world as I hear a voice calling my name. I turn to face the individual while he proceeds to deliver a message: "Chief Mariano expects you at the Rangers Headquarters sir! It seems the preparations for your departure are all done."

Talking about arrogant fucks: Chief Marian fits the description perfectly. The man is the perfect incompetent tool, and he has somehow arrived in a position such as his by overindulging in political issues. Typical...

Before me stood a Private of the Army, his hand held high in a salute. The boy was young, clearly fresh meat into the ranks, and I could tell that just by looking into his inexperienced eyes. "Come over here boy," and I signaled to the chair right in front of me. "Sit down, let me tell you something."

Hell. I know I'm about to embark on a mission that will probably take what remains of my life to carry out, but, weirdly, it feels as if the only thing I will ever truly miss in Shady Sands is the damned shithole that is Dusty's Cantina. The beer is shit, the seats are uncomfortable and the people are ugly as the devil... but god dam, I do love this place.

"Are you willing to do me a favor soldier?" I asked the Private, hoping the soldier had time for some overtime work for a old, grizzled Ranger. I lighted a cigarette, hoping to enjoy my last few hours in the Capital. "I need you to deliver a letter for me."

"Is this an order sir?" the boy seemed nervous, and for a moment I remembered my first days in the army. Back then, If I too was asked by a Veteran to deliver a letter, I would also feel extremely uneasy.

"No. This is not an order boy. Merely a favor. I need you to deliver this to someone named Maria. This is not related to the Army, or the Rangers in any way. This is a personal favor. Will you do this for me?"

"I guess... I guess I will sir." he still sounded extremely nervous, but I recognize a good soldier when I see one. "Where does she live sir?" I smirked, how ironic that phrase sounded. How terribly ironic...

"She doesn't." I answered, my throat gone sour because of the unpleasant memories of a past I rather forget. "Her full name is Maria Goldling Lobo. Look for her grave... she was buried in the Shady Sands cemetery, shouldn't be too hard..." The soldier was static, as if he had just bitten his own tongue.

"Oh!... Oh! I'm sorry sir! I'm so, so sorry!" He got up, saluting me... as if that would change anything. It almost seemed funny, in some fucked up kind of way. I could not help but smile. I got up, and patted the boy in the back as I walked past him.

"You'll do well in the Army kid."

The Rangers Headquarters was once only a single building, where the Rangers pretended they were just mechanics - who., for some reason, donned highly advanced armor and heavy-ass weapons. This was mostly because it used to be a covert cell; the Rangers back then where fighting against some major player in the Slave Trade, and those rats had eyes, and pointy knifes, everywhere, so secrecy was the key. Nowadays, I'm glad to say that, thanks to the Rangers, there is not a single fucking slaver left in Shady Sandy. Thus, our headquarters expanded quite a bit. We still maintain the old location, but now there are three other buildings: a warehouse, a garage and the barracks, meanwhile the old location was converted into an administrative area.

I entered the administrative building. A bunch of couriers delivered mails, while numerous soldiers of the Army received orders and instructions, a couple of Rangers talked to one of the various officers; probably receiving orders for their next mission. I journeyed across the room, and opened a door that lead to Marian's office.

"Hey! Hey! Lobo, my old friend! How you've been holding up?"

"Cut the bullshit Marian, we've known each other for a long time. You know I don't like you, and I know you're glad you will never, ever have to see me again." I stated, making my way towards his desk. "Let's go straight to business, I'll need all the time I have." and I then sat down on a chair placed right in front of his desk.

"Yes. It's a Win-Win-Win situation, isn't it? - I win, you win, and the NCR wins too." He laughed at his pathetic attempt a joke, maybe he hoped he could lighten the mood... but fuck him. I have no patience for political rats like him. He is exactly the kind of people who should not be in the military, the kind of people who put the Republic at unnecessary risk. "Okay. I see you wanna' get straight to business then?"

"Yes, Marion! For fuck's sake."

"Fine." He sobbed, and took a sip out of a glass that sat atop his table. That liquid was most likely the reason I was able to talk to him this way without being prosecuted in a martial court. The guy was a drunk, a waste of space. He knew better than to pick a fight with one of the best damn Rangers in the entire NCR. "First, we'll head over trough a list of places the Republic wishes scouted, then we'll talk about the equipments we'll make available for this mission, and then we'll talk about how you will report a weekly journal back to the NCR."

"Zion National Park is your first obligatory stop. The place has been oddly empty for the last years, and we haven't heard any new stories about the Burned Man for a long time. Caravans have reported odd sightings, and some of our researches believe the Geological Survey facilities located across the park has information that can help their research. You'll have to gather information about the tribals who once occupied these lands, and gather the information from these facilities. Meanwhile, if you can find anything about the Burned Man's fate, that info could be useful for us."

"What follows will most likely be the most dangerous part of your journey. You'll need to go deep undercover into Legion territory - although they have been somewhat in disarray in the last years, their forces spread thin, their territory is still well-defended, and they remain paranoid of our spies. Denver is your goal. The Legion may be in control of the place, but the true leaders are the dogs. We believe we'll be able to find more info on cyberdogs there, all we know about them is what our researchers have found out and the few files we retrieved all these years ago. We also believe in the existence of a nearby research facility known as Boulder Dome, and it seems the place was never uncovered by the Legion - any info you can gather on this location will also help us further."

"One of the greatest mysteries to us is how, and why, the Legion had previously engaged Brotherhood troops, even before coming into contact with our expeditionary forces. It seems that the Brotherhood once ventured all throughout the wasteland in giant blimps, and that a particular group established themselves somewhere in the Plains and Midwest Commonwealths. In the end, this information can be completely false, but we wish to know if any of it proves to be true. We also believe that yet another Brotherhood chapter may be taking shelter in either the Pentagon or the ruins of Pittsburg, those places are also to be verified."

"You'll then proceed through the ruins of New York, and finish your travels in Boston. Then, and only then, you should come back. Any additional locations visited will grant you a bonus in cash upon your return, and the information will help in the Republic's effort greatly. Are we clear?"

"Clear as water." I said.

"Moving into equipment: you'll be outfitted with one of the few models of Elite L.A.P.D Riot Gear we recovered from Ashton; a flexible armor that offers incredible protection. For weapons you'll receive two Ranger Sequoias, an AM Rifle, a Bozar LMG, a heavily modified Riot Shotgun and a large quantities of explosives - you'll obviously be unable to carry all of this, and thus the Republic has agreed to supply you with one of our heavily modified Highwayman."

"The vehicle is equipped with a Fuel cell regulator, a bigger trunk, a blower, grav plates, and massively increased protection. You have been provided enough fuel to reach Denver, in case you run out of fuel, you'll need to find more on your own. If you decided to abandon the vehicle, your orders are to destroy it, and any equipment you leave behind with it. You have been supplied with a large quantity of purified pre-war food and water, military rations, Stimpaks., Med-Xs, Rad-X and Radaways. Alcoholic beverages and smokes have not been provided, you'll need to find them on your own."

"Seriously?" I answered. "You guys give me one of the best cars in our fleet, a arsenal of weapons, but you're not willing to give me some smokes and whiskey? What the fuck?"

"The Republic advises against driving while inebriated."

"Amen to that, cocksuckers." I whispered to myself.

"Last, but mostly important." and then he placed something besides me; a black box about the size of my hand, with a single long cable sticking out of it. "This is one of the biggest wonders our researchers have been able to come up with."

"Sure doesn't look like it."

"Huh, now you're all jokey huh? Anyways, this is how you'll send your reports back to us. We have connected many of these around various terminals across the entirety of the Republic. It is simple: whenever you wish to send us back a report, - and we advise that you do it once a week, or I might presume you've been killed - you find a terminal, plug this device into it, and type up whatever it it's you have found. You'll then press this button." and he pointed me towards a small button in atop the box. "And we'll receive the message in about a day or two."

"You got all that?" he asked.

"Did you?"

Here we are... I sat inside the Highwayman, my hands gripping the steering wheel, I fully know I will probably never return to Shady Sands... that I would never see Maria's grave again. But it does not bother me, after all, I'm doing this for her. I'm doing this because I remember the why she talked about the rest of the world.

"What about them?" she said. "We are here, protected by these walls of concrete and these soldiers, but there are others... there are other who are still out there." and she touched my face with her smooth hands. "How long will they suffer?" and she kissed my cheeks, and I wondered how could I be happier. "Will we save them, one day?"

I'll do it. Even if it costs me dearly. You keep me searching for this heart of gold.


	2. Interlude - The Warrior

**INTERLUDE**

"We've confirmed his location sir." said the Brotherhood Paladin aloud, while chatting with somebody on the radio. Meanwhile, the members of the squad placed under his command waited patiently, their muscles aching with the kind of a tension only a highly important mission could cause. "He is ours now sir, there is now way he will escape... we've got him."

Outside, the loud noise of the Vertbird's rotors filled the radioactive plains of post-War Kansas with a noise rarely heard in a location such as this. Kansas was once a major hub of Brotherhood activity; the Midwestern Brotherhood, also known as the Chicago chapter, once defended this place from the unimaginable dangers of the Wasteland. Somewhere along the line the Midwestern Brotherhood, once arguably the most powerful faction to rise post-War, collapsed into various splinter factions due to infighting. The faction collapsed, and this allowed the expansionism of the Legion to extend into Kansas, as well as the rise of a new Super mutant leader. Kansas thus became the epicenter of a battle between the Legion, a new army of Super mutants, and the remnants of a fractured and weakened Chicago chapter.

The men aboard that Vertbird were tasked to pursue a mission in a region fairly unknown to them, and one torn by a brutal war. This was enough reason to make the small squad present even more nervous - yes, these were some of the best men the newly reformed Brotherhood had to offer, but still. The squad was formed by three Knights, who were lead by a certain Paladin, and, responsible for piloting, a Lancer-Sergeant. "We will try our best to bring him alive." said the Paladin, answering the radio one last time. " Ad Victoriam."

"Listen up brothers!" said the Paladin, as he turned himself to face his squad. "Today, we shall once again perform our rightfully duty to the Brotherhood. Elder Maxson himself has tasked us with a mission that may change the fate of our future, and I will not - I repeat, I will not - accept failures today... _he_ certainly won't." The sheer disgust in the Paladin's voice made it clear that, whoever they were hunting, it was someone who had done something terrible in the eyes of that particular Paladin."This man is extremely dangerous, and although he may be old enough to have died twice at this point, he will punish weakness with quick death. We keep focused, we stand like brothers, and we fight for the Brotherhood, and victory shall be ours. Ad Victoriam!" screamed the Paladin, who raised his Laser Rifle high in the air

"Ad Victoriam!" shouted the rest of the squad in unison.

Soon enough, the Vertbird landed near a small rocky formation that rose mightily from the ground, wherein a small hole opened up. The Paladin and his three Knights, all donned in powered armor and equipped with a variation of highly modified laser weaponries, descended from the vehicle and began to perform a variation of safety measures. Checking for mines, traps and any potential threats in the vicinity while the Paladin barked a multitude orders to his soldiers, and they began descending into the cave, just as the Vertbird launched itself into the skies once again.

As these brave men descended into oblivion, most could not help but to feel extremely uneasy. Only one wasn't fazed by the notion of imminent doom... the brave Paladin, who stood proudly in front of his Knights, leading the group towards victory... or death. The tunnel slowly funneled the further they went down, initially the tunnel easily allowed for two brothers to stand shoulder to shoulder inside, however, it slowly narrowed down as it progressed further, to the point where the soldiers movement had become extremely impaired. The darkness and the claustrophobia would have made most men give up at this point, - the moist walls, the strange smell that resembled both death and shit, and the bat's audible noises - but these were soldiers of the Brotherhood, and they would fight - or die - to fulfill their Elder's orders.

The tunnel then ended suddenly, giving way into a massive metal room. The rock unnaturally came to an end, and the soldiers progressed throughout a door into a room filled with pieces of technology; monitors and terminals that displayed information about the nearby area, as well as historical and tactical information, reports from all over the Wasteland. Weapons and a variation of different armors could be found spread all across the room, and a enormous quantity of supplies ensured that whoever lived there would be able to spend years in reclusion. However, the most impressive figure was a man who calmly sat on a comfortably chair right in the middle of the room. An ancient man, whose age was probably well into his first century, and he was dressed in a kind of power armor strange even to the members of Maxson's Brotherhood. That very armor once served as a symbol of hope for this region, it once served as a beacon for a chapter of the Brotherhood forgot by their so-called brothers, a chapter casted out and branded as renegades. The Ancient man was a figure of power. His long white hair, and his dirty face scarred by a thousand scars said more than any worlds ever could about who this man was.

"Welcome, men of Maxson." said the Ancient. "I'm afraid I have no means to offer a worthy reception, but I'm sure we'll come to a sound agreement."

"Halt!" screamed the Paladin, placing himself in front of the Ancient. "Cassius Sikus, otherwise known as the Warrior, also known by the treacherous title General of the Brotherhood. You've been charged with the crime of treason by our leader Supreme Commander Arthur Maxson; you've corrupted the very purpose of our laws by allowing filthy tribals and aberrations into your ranks, and for not reporting the status of the Chicago detachment for the last eighty years."

"Son... I do not give a fuck about you, or this kid you call Supreme Commander." and the Ancient smiled, the kind of sad, depressed and tire smile only a veteran from thousands of wars can truly make. "As you can see, the Chicago chapter is dead and old... as old as me. I may be the last one, apart from two or three squads running amok trying to thwart the progress of a group much more dangerous than the tribals and... aberrations."

"The Legion offers no immediate danger to the Brotherhood, and this only serves to further prove how foolish and corrupted your chapter has become. We shall bring you to the Commander, and if you try to resist, I will not regret delivering judgment upon thee myself. You're outmatched... and old." said the Paladin. The Ancient did not mind the boy, as he eyes focused on the Knights who stood behind him. Three in total. All of them looked towards the Ancient, but one of them had different intentions than the other two - the way he held his weapon, as if he needed to act first than his brothers, gave that away.

"Boy... I'm afraid my mission here still must be completed." and the Ancient rose from his chair... his shadow was imposing. He was definitely old, but stature and the muscles he had built after so many years still allowed him to stand a head taller than all of the soldiers in the room. "There is a new Caesar, - a new tyrant - and although he does not pose immediate danger for the Brotherhood, he does for all of the man and women of Kansas. The very men and women, children and elders, I pledged to protect all these years in the past when I was recruited into these very ranks. I'm here to fight for a better world... something you and your Commander seem to have forgotten."

"In that case..." and the Paladin reached to pull the trigger of his gun. Ready to strike one of the Wasteland's biggest legends down. He would have been successfully, if he wasn't dealing with one of the most skilled killers in Kansas. When put under that perspective, his move was a foolish one, as the Warrior still retained a good quantity of the seemingly inhuman agility he had displayed all these years ago when he first fought for the Brotherhood. Before anyone could even react, before the Paladin had finished what was a simple movement, he was interrupted by his own screams of agony. He looked down, only to see the Warrior's Ripper lodged amidst his ribcage. The other Knights raised their guns towards the enemy, but were quickly dispatched by the barrage of a powerfully Gatling laser. Their armored bodies collapsed onto the ground, cooked from the inside out by a one of their own. One Knight who wished to deliver one last message to the new Elder. A Knight whose ideals remained loyal to the deceased Lyons.

With the squad wiped, only the Lonesome Knight and the Ancient Warrior remained in the room. For a couple of seconds, none of them said anything. A silent greeting from both. A silent greeting between two men who witnessed the same fall, only in different times and places.

"I want to help you." finally said the Knight, as he threw his heavy weapon unto the ground. A signal of good fate. "Arthur is a madmen, and he will not stop until every mutant and ghoul has been wiped out." and he came further, standing just centimeters away from a legend. "I'm tired of standing around as innocent people die."

"Your heart is in the right place kid, and you seem pretty hand with one of these." said the Warrior, pointing towards the Gatling laser. "You'll enjoy using one of the Gauss Miniguns we've found around here. You can stay in Kansas and help if you wish, I know of some loyalists that could use a hand from someone like you." and the Ancient paused, as if searching for a way to not sound ungrateful or rude. "But hunting in Legion territory is not as easy as it sounds boy. Although you may believe their methods barbaric, and their view on society ancient, it is undeniable they know how to make their territory safe for their folk."

"You'll be more useful here. The new Super mutant leader, Ozz Diaz-namm, will destroy every friendly settlement who refuses to join his army, and I fear that, soon enough, he will be able to overrun us all." Cassius raised a Gauss Minigun out a table, and began to verify the weapon. "I'll be honest: you'll be doing the kind of job humanity forgets about, but so am I. You truly want to help? Assemble a resistance, kill Ozz, and let me handle the Roman."

"Fine." said the Knight. "We'll give Kansas the stability it deserves."


End file.
